


Tony Stark vs His First Crush

by feetheimpossiblegrl



Series: Tony Stark VS [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Kid Peter, Science Bros, Tony as a parent, dad tony, really I just wanted some science bros, science teacher Bruce, this is all self serving Tony is worried and Bruce is a good bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 19:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feetheimpossiblegrl/pseuds/feetheimpossiblegrl
Summary: Following the events of Peter's Halloween Party Tony needs to talk. He invites over his friend Bruce, another of Peter's teachers who he is growing very close to.





	Tony Stark vs His First Crush

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop writing parent! Tony and this is basically the beautiful result.   
> Bruce Banner is a very good bro and he and Tony would bond SO quickly, fight me.   
> Also, I wanted insecure Tony talking about his feelings for Steve.

The elevator is smooth, Bruce barely feels his ascent as he’s rushed to the thirty-fifth, _or was it the fifty-third_ , floor. He smiles to himself, removing his glasses to clean them, as he thinks fondly of his friend.

“J,” Bruce’s voice is light and kind, much like it always is. “Do you know why Tony has called me here? It’s nearly 10, on a school night.”

“Sir has instructed me not to divulge any information. Though I did try to remind him that requesting the company of a friend at this time is quite rude,” the A.I.’s voice is disproving, Bruce smirks at the mental picture of an adult Edwin Jarvis chastising Tony.

“Thank you Jarvis, but we both know when Tony gets caught up—“  
“He does get so magnificently caught up.” JARVIS’ tone is slightly different, endeared now. Jarvis, the man and the Intelligence, love Tony.

The elevator doors slide open, signaling the end of Bruce’s upward ride.

“Brucie-bear!” Tony exclaims, voice louder than Bruce would assume the parent of a six-year-old would dare let his voice be.

“Tony, I swear, if you called me over at 10 on a godforsaken Thursday night to ask me to work for you, again, I will pull my hair out.” Bruce tries to sound upset, tries not to absorb the excitement radiating off Tony in waves.

“No, no, no, no no, Brucie-bear why would I do that?” The question is completely rhetorical because since meeting at parent-teacher conferences several weeks ago Tony has tried to get Bruce to join Tony’s ‘think tank’ no less than eight times. “No, today I called you over for a different reason.”

Bruce watches Tony’s demeanor change, the shift in his features as he leads Bruce through the living area, scattered with Peter’s toys and drawings, a StarkTab and cup of coffee sitting forgotten on the coffee table, to the open dining/kitchen area. He grabs two colas from the fridge and hands one to Bruce before sitting on the counter. Tony crosses his legs, slowly, as if waiting, putting his words together in his head.

“Steve and I kissed last night,” he whispers almost to himself. He tilts his head back against the shelf with a soft ‘thud’.

Bruce remains silent, in the short amount of time he’s known Tony he’s come to realize the man will work through his thoughts. He doesn’t always need somebody to reply, to give advice. More often than not he needs somebody to listen so he can figure it out on his own. Tony continues like he knew he would.

“I just… I don’t even know the man really. It’s been what, two months? Two months of writing letters to each other. Some texts, a few late-night phone calls. But still. I mean, I… I don’t even know how to talk to the man when I’m around him. I get stupid, Brucie. I get so stupid. My tongue is heavy and my words mix together and I can’t remember how to speak. I didn’t even bring up the fact that every letter he wrote me is in my nightstand, I couldn’t mention that. But that would have probably been unprofessional, huh Brucie-bear? I couldn’t have walked in and been like ‘hey! My son sure has artistic talent, huh? By the way I have a huge crush on you and the letters we pass using my six-year-old as some kind of modern day courier pigeon to deliver are one of the best parts of my day? I’ve spent nights wondering what your smile looks like and even with all those nights, all that time I spent crafting the perfect smile and imagining having it turned to me and it’s nothing’,” Tony spits the word ‘nothing’ out not in bad way, but in the way somebody would spit with surprise. “He compared me to the sun once you know? Did I tell you that? Did he tell you that? He said that standing next to me would be like standing next to the sun. But when I saw him, when I first laid eyes on Steven Grant Rogers I knew, Brucie, I knew what it was like staring into the sun. Then he spoke Bruce, he spoke. With looks like that what gives him the right to have a voice that can sooth beasts?”

Tony hasn’t touched his drink, it sits opened in his hand. Bruce waits a minute. Taking in the way Tony’s chest rises and falls with his breathing. He looks comfortable in sweats and a workout shirt. The light of the arc reactor shining through, like a beacon in the soft light of the kitchen.

“Okay,” Bruce drawls in a tone that would be considered bored by anybody else. “So?”

Tony hesitates, pausing as he was finally bringing the drink to his lips, only to put it back down. A moment passes quietly, then another as Tony thinks over what he wants, needs, to say.

“Does it make me a bad person?” He whispers, voice just barely loud enough for Bruce to hear from where he stands next to Tony. “Am I bad for suddenly becoming a father then sticking my head so far up my ass I get a crush on one of his favorite teachers?”

“No.” Bruce pushes off from the counter, turning to face Tony in the same move. “No, liking Steve doesn’t make you a bad person, just like becoming friends with me doesn’t make you a bad person. Grabbing a beer with Clint on the weekends hasn’t made you a bad person. Acting like an adult doesn’t make you a bad person. You don’t have to do this alone, and just because you’re Peter’s dad and Steve is his teacher doesn’t mean you can’t be involved.”

“It’s a conflict of interest, babe.” Looking at Tony, actually looking at him, Bruce notices the tears in the man’s eyes, sees how distressed Tony is.

“Well, yes and no.” Tony’s eyes widen.

“What?”

“Well, Shield Magnet doesn’t have a policy regarding parents and teachers. Probably because there hasn’t been a precedent for it. But currently as long as Steve can keep business and pleasure separate there shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Oh my god,” Tony sighs. “Good, because I may or may not have asked him to dinner? I think. I’m not sure. He kissed me and suddenly my brain melted and I was spitting out words?”

“The great Tony Stark, brain melted by a 30-year-old war vet from Brooklyn?” Bruce teases, voice light, now that Tony appears to be over the hump of his breakdown.

“…Well he is handsome.” Tony adds petulantly, like he is no older than Peter.

“You got me there, Tony,” Bruce laughs, bringing the bottle of cola back to his lips. “You got me there.”

A comfortable silence settles back over the two. Tony shuffles, uncrossing his legs to dangle them, swinging back and forth. Tony swings his legs once, twice, three times before pulling them up and tucking his knees under his chin. He takes a large drink from his cola. The peace is nice, Bruce finds himself relaxing into it. He’s comfortable around Tony, and thankful for the visits they have. Though more thankful when they fall on the weekend and not late on a school night, but, he can take some of the man’s strangeness in stride. He senses the change, he knows Tony is about to say something before he even opens his mouth.

“You really shou—“

“No, Tony. I like teaching.” Bruce cuts Tony off, they’ve had this conversation more times than Bruce can handle since Tony actually looked at the background checks Pepper had done.

“No, Brucie-bear. You’ve made me see the light. I just think, if you want, you could help S.I. a lot just over the summer. We are branching into medicine and… well it would just be nice to have somebody with your expertise to guide us.”

Bruce sits for a moment, mulling over Tony’s words. There is respect there, quite unlike the Tony he had seen at a Stark Expo five years ago. A loud man, who didn’t care for the words being said unless they were words he wanted to hear. This Tony was thoughtful, hesitant.

Bruce thinks maybe that’s what three months in a cave in Afghanistan did to you.

“I think that would be nice,” Bruce mutters. Sensing Tony’s surprise, letting the other man’s joy wash over him.

“Really, babe? You mean it, Honeybunch? That’s—holy shit yes. We’re gonna make so much beautiful, beautiful science together. Life, no, no world changing shit Brucie-bear. World changing. I’ll get you set up with a small lab area a floor below my workshop! Peter and I will decorate a guest room for you. You know, in case it gets late…”

Tony’s rant is cut off by Peter himself, stumbling into the kitchen.

_Nightmare_ , the child signs, hands moving slow and without the usual snap in his groggy state. _You weren’t in your room, daddy,_ he adds. It’s then that Bruce and Tony take in Peter’s shaking shoulders, the way he seems to curl in on himself.

“Oh, baby boy,” Tony sighs, jumping off the counter. Scoping Peter up, Tony sways back and forth, speaking soothingly into his ear. “I gotcha baby. Sweet boy, my sweet, sweet boy. I gotcha.”

Bruce watches, taking in the sight of father and son. He’s seen this before. On a weekend he came to visit Tony. Peter had nightmares almost every night when he first came to live with the man. They slowed after developing a schedule, but still persist. Bruce knows that Tony has a routine for when Peter’s nightmares are bad enough to wake them both.

“How does some hot chocolate sound Petey?” Bruce questions, already moving to prepare the traditional nighttime beverage. “We can make it the science way!”

Peter’s silent cries slow, replaced by sniffles and hiccups. He gives Bruce a slow, jerky nod. Bruce tries not to think about the implications of the fact that he knows where Tony keeps everything. He grabs three mugs from the cabinet Tony had just been leaning his head against. Placing them gently on the counter. He grabs a saucepan from the rack that hangs over the island where the stovetop sits. Finally, he grabs cocoa powder, sugar, and semisweet chocolates from the cabinet next to the refrigerator. He grabs milk from the refrigerator door, before settling his supplies on the island next to the stove.

“Okay Pete, what do we do first?”

_Turn the stove on._ Peter signs, hiccups slowing as Tony continues to rock and rub soothing circles on his sons back.

“Yes! Exactly, we have to turn the stove on. Then I’m going to add some water. Do you remember the boiling point of water?”

_212 Fahrenheit, 100 Celsius, 373 Kelvin._ Peter signs, little nose crinkling as he tries to remember the information Bruce had mentioned in passing. Peter’s memory is a testament to his and his father’s genius.

“Right! When the water gets close to that point it will start bubbling, yeah? That’s how we know it’s boiling. What do we do then Peter?”

_Add milk._

“Yes.” Bruce smiles, noticing the lack of hiccups, the sniffles are almost entirely gone. “Good job, we add the milk, slowly.”

Peter reaches out a hand, gesturing to the measuring cup. Tony helps him measure out the milk and carefully, slowly, they pour it into the saucepan with the boiling water.

“Then we have to stir it a lot, right, Petey? Because milk will burn and get yucky so fast.” Bruce turns down the heat, and stirs the liquid slowly.

_Add chocolate! Add chocolate!_ Peter signs, as soon as bubbles start to form in the milk.

Tony chuckles, setting Peter on the island, as far from the stovetop as possible, before quickly breaking down the chocolate pieces for Bruce.

_Stir! Stir!_ Peter signs, gesturing enthusiastically.

It’s Bruce’s turn to laugh as Peter and Tony help him add the sugar and cocoa powder.

“Alright, Peter,” the older man laughs, whisking the mixture. “Do you have whipped cream Tony? I think tonight calls for extra special hot chocolate.” Bruce winks at Peter, delighting in the way the small boy’s eyes grow three sizes at the mention of his favorite topping.

“I think we have some,” Tony mutters, setting Peter down on the dining table, a few feet away from the two.

Tony nearly disappears into the large refrigerator. Bruce is struck at the similarities between Peter’s and Tony’s builds. Though Peter is still a child it’s clear he will take after his dad. On the short side and very, very lean. Watching Tony move is like watching a machine in motion, but much less graceful most times. Bruce recalls having seen the man trip over his own shoelaces twice now. Peter is much like his father, still on the short side of his classmates and a very small child.

“Aha! I knew we had some left over. It’s from Sundae Sunday Pete. Remember Sundae Sunday? We should do that again. Maybe this weekend. You can invite MJ and Ned over? Have a sleepover?” Tony’s exclamation rouses Bruce from his inner dialogue, he bites back a chuckle at how excited Tony looks for Peter’s potential sleepover.

Peter claps his hands excitedly and nods at his father, they both beam at each other.

Bruce clears his throat. “If you don’t mind, that whipped cream would taste fantastic on this rapidly cooling hot chocolate.”

* * *

It’s midnight by the time they’re done cleaning up, and Bruce is dreading the trip home. He won’t get there until after 1 and he likes to be to the school no later than 7. It’s looking like he will be having a very long Friday. But, looking at Tony cuddled up on the couch with a sleeping Peter curled in his arms. The light of the arc reactor shining a soft blue on the boy’s gentle features, he thinks he would do it all over again.

At some point in the last month, between parent teacher conferences and now, Tony has become his friend and Peter has become more than just a student.

This, might be a conflict of interests.

“Hey, uh, Brucie-bear,” Tony’s voice is soft, his hands are free. Bruce must not have noticed him putting Peter back to bed. “It’s… well, it’s late. And it’s my fault you’re still out. I, well. There is a guest bedroom. I can have Happy take you to the school whenever you’re ready. And I’m sure there’s something in this building you can wear. But like, I know it was rude of me to call on you so late. You came anyway, and that means a lot. The least I can do is ask you to please, please, use the guest room instead of trekking all the way home and working on four hours of sleep.”

Bruce barely has time to reply, to thank Tony for his offer and ask to be shown to the room because only an idiot would say no when Tony has to open his mouth again.

“Think of it for Peter. He can’t have one of his favorite teachers working only half charged.” A lopsided grin accompanies Tony’s words this time. Bruce can’t help but chuckle.

“Lead the way, Tony,” the man chuckles.

Tony helps him get settled in. Bruce tries to ignore the fact that the room is already filled with clothing that, surprise, will fit him perfectly. Tony’s reddening cheeks testify that yes, he is behind the clothing and fully prepared ‘guest’. It’s nice, very kind, but Bruce won’t tell him that, yet.

“Tony,” Bruce almost shouts as the younger man is leaving the room. “You should do it. I think… I think it would be good for you.” He pauses, churning over whether or not he should add the next words. “And for Peter.”

“Really?” Tony’s voice is breathless, like he can’t believe that maybe he has the right to be happy, to find a love outside the one he is developing with his son.

Bruce just nods, waiting while Tony considers Bruce’s words.

“I think I just might take your advice, Brucie-bear.”


End file.
